


The Price of Sacrifice

by mychemicalcass



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Acid Burns, Galra Empire, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Permanent scars, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mychemicalcass/pseuds/mychemicalcass
Summary: While on a mission, Lance takes the brunt of shot aimed at Keith's lion, and he wakes up with a splitting headache and the terrible realization that he's been captured. He refuses to give up Voltron's secrets, but his stubbornness will cost him.When he's rescued he's determined to brush things off and act as if everything is fine. Keith doesn't believe him.(May get a second part/chapter if I decide I want to include Lance's recovery and him talking about what happened)





	The Price of Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: there are implications of rape in this story, and while they're very vague, I want to warn anyone who may be upset by mentions of it. The torture is not graphic either. Nothing is described in very much detail.
> 
> A bitch loves LANGST so why not put my boy through it?? And of course have his favorite samurai there to comfort him

Darkness.

That was the first thing Lance could process. Wherever he was, it was incredibly dark.

Then, pain.

His whole body was aching, especially his head. God, it was throbbing like crazy. Where the hell was he? 

Alright, he just had to try to remember what had happened. Right, they’d gotten a distress signal from a planet. Of course, it had been a trick. Some Galra who refused to accept Lotor as their leader had lured them there. They hadn’t been expecting a very big fight. It wasn’t like they were fighting massive Galra ships. 

Lord, how they’d been wrong. 

Whatever they had hit them with had been immensely powerful. It didn’t take long to recharge either, so they had no choice but to split up to avoid their attacks destroying all of them. 

The last thing Lance remembers is that crazy powerful beam being aimed at Keith. He shoved him out of the way and took the brunt of the shot, and then it went dark. He had no clue how he’d ended up here. 

They must’ve captured him. It was no wonder he was in such pain after being hit by that beam. Lance huffed, looking around pointlessly. Whatever, the others would come and find him soon. He’d be out of there in no time. 

Right? 

Lance shifted uncomfortably against the wall, realizing he had handcuffs on after a few moments.

“Hello?” he cried, hoping for a response. “Anyone there? Anyone care to tell me what’s going to happen to me?”

Lance waited for a response, but got nothing. 

He did hear, however, loud heavy footsteps outside of the room. It didn’t sound like any of the paladins. The door swung open, and his eyes burned at the blindingly bright light that followed. He lifted his hands to cover his eyes, and they were yanked back in place by the chains. He squeezed his eyes shut instead.

“Ah, the blue paladin.”

The voice sent shivers up Lance’s spine, and he opened his eyes slowly, still squinting to accommodate the light. “Who the hell are you?” he spat.

“You need not know. All that matters is that you have all the information we need.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to tell you anything about Voltron.”

The Galra gave an eerie grin. “You may feel differently after everything I have planned.”

That made Lance’s stomach churn, but the last thing he was going to do was show weakness. So, he didn’t respond, merely glared and considered spitting in his face. 

“You,” the Galra began, “are going to give me all of Voltron’s secrets. Even if it’s forced out of you.”

Lance scoffed, but the tremor that shook his body betrayed the indifference he tried to maintain. 

“Let’s start off with something easy, shall we?” Lance wasn’t quite sure what his idea of ‘easy’ was, but he didn’t think he’d enjoy it. 

The Galra bombarded him with a series of questions about Voltron, each of which he promptly ignored. He wasn’t going to betray his team. He flinched each time the Galra snarled. What did he have in mind for him?

When he’d run through his list of questions, each one unanswered, Lance relaxed a little bit. Not too much, he still knew he had a punishment coming. 

The Galra grabbed Lance’s hair roughly, slamming his head against the wall behind him a few times to subdue him. Lance groaned, the room spinning as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. The shackles were removed, and the Galra hauled Lance out of the room and down a series of hallways. 

Lance writhed, but every movement earned him a knee to his mid-back, nearly sending him sprawling from the force had the Galra not had such a forceful grip on him. 

The entered another dark room, a rather large one, but the only thing he could see was the pit of blindingly bright yellow liquid in the middle of the room, the only light in there.

“What the hell is that? What are you doing?” Lance tried to keep his voice hard and cold, but he knew the alien could feel him shuddering underneath his grasp. He was shoved forward without a direct answer. 

“That’s none of your concern,” the man snarled, and, with his free hand, grabbed both of Lance’s wrists. “All you need to do is submerge your hands in it, and that’s all your punishment will be.”

Lance felt his blood run cold. If the bubbling and sizzling of the liquid told him anything, it was that he didn’t want to go anywhere near it, let alone stick his hands in it.

He looked back at the Galra with wide, almost pleading eyes. “Don’t fret, you’ll keep your hands. I don’t think a paladin of Voltron will get very far without them. Now place them in it, or I’ll submerge your face instead.”

Lance choked on his next breath, staring down at the yellow liquid as his vision blurred. He remained still until his face was pushed down, hovering a mere few inches above the liquid. 

“Okay, okay!” he cried, hysteria clear in his tone. He was lifted back up, and as he squeezed his eyes shut, he stuck his hands in the solvent. 

A scream was instantly ripped from his throat, and his arms were held in place by the Galra’s massive hands. 

Lance thrashed, trying to shove the alien away from him in futile efforts. 

“Stop, please! Please, I’ll do anything!”

The pain was horrible, worse than anything else he’d ever experienced. He was ready to do anything to make it stop. He could only be glad it hadn’t been his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks, each breath coming out more like a choked sob. 

After what felt like hours more of the torture, the Galra released his arms and Lance yanked his hands out of what he could only assume was acid. He didn’t know what else it could be. 

In his moment of hysteria, he pressed himself against the Galra, desperate to get away from the solvent. The man laughed, the sound cold and sharp, as he grabbed the back of Lance’s neck and pulled him back. 

“Now, next time I question you, you can either answer me or face this again. Or, who knows, maybe I’ll come up with something worse next time.” 

Lance both felt as if his hands were numb and as if they were on fire. His vision blurred every time he tried to get a good look at them, but he knew it had to be bad. 

He could do nothing but stumble along as he was pushed down the hallway, wondering to himself if the Galra would be able to break him. The idea of anything worse than what he’d just experienced terrified him to his very core. 

“What I like about this,” the alien sneered in his ear, “Is the permanent mark it leaves. You’ll always have disgusting disfigured hands and, who knows, maybe even more than that.”

Lance weakly struggled as he was chained back up, but he still somewhat out of it. The pain hadn’t made him delirious, per se, but it had messed with his state of mind. For the moment, anyways. 

“I’ll be back later, with some food and water. We can’t have you dying on us.” Lance stared at the man in front of him, unable to muster any sort of response, earning a harsh chuckle from the other.

“Maybe you’ll be ready for more questions then, hm?”

With that, Lance was left alone, chained to the wall in a now pitch black room. The darkness made him uneasy. He couldn’t make out anything, even the door that had just been open. 

Lance was grateful his hands were out of sight. He wasn’t very sure he wanted to look at them. He didn’t think seeing them would do any good. 

The minutes seemed like hours to him, but then again, he really didn’t know how much time was passing. It could be hours for all he knew. Days and weeks passed, but Lance never knew how long he’d been there. Three months? A year? Two weeks? He had no way of knowing. No one told him. 

The Galra returned to the pit of boiling liquid a few times, but he seemed to enjoy testing out new things on Lance. He knew being kept in the dark was done on purpose, he knew it was done to mess with his mind. 

Nothing had been worse, though, than the few, and very rare, occasions that he was taken advantage of. Thrown around like a rag doll for the alien to use however he wanted. It always hurt, always resulted in blood and shame and tears, but that didn’t matter. Not to the vicious alien who kept him there. 

Lance swore he’d never felt the euphoria he did when he was finally rescued and he saw Hunk’s familiar face come into view. He’d sobbed in relief, really too weak to match Hunk’s pace as they fled. He’d clung to him like he was the only thing keeping him alive, overjoyed to see his best friend again, rescuing him.

He said nothing, it would’ve been too hard to speak around his sobs anyways. Hunk didn’t ask questions. Not yet. There was too much going on, and Lance was obviously too fragile for any kind of interrogation yet. He’d wait for a good time. 

They’d found Red on the planet the aliens lived on, but Hunk kept Lance in his lion. There was no way he’d be able to pilot himself. He would’ve had to pry Lance off of him if he wanted him off, but again, he was afraid Lance was too fragile for that, so he let him be as he piloted them both back to the castle of lions. Lance was safe, that was all that mattered. Not unharmed, but safe. 

When Hunk finally got a good look at Lance’s face, his breath caught in his throat.

It had been too dark in the room to really see it, and Lance had kept his face pressed in his shoulder since then. But he’d fallen unconscious, undoubtedly exhausted, and that was when Hunk could really see his face.

What the hell had happened to him?

The skin was scarred, red and almost bubbling. He felt like he could be sick. What was that from? Acid? Hunk used the time to take a quick look at the rest of Lance to check for wounds he’d missed. His hands looked relatively the same.

“Oh, Lance,” he whispered, voice filled with sorrow. He could only hope the healing pods would help, if only a little. Had Lance seen himself yet? Did he even want to?

Hunk carried him out of the lion when they reached the castle, keeping his face hidden in his chest for the time being. Coran, Shiro, and the other paladins hurried to his hangar to see Lance, see how he was doing.

“He’s alright, just not awake,” Hunk told them, after seeing their panic upon seeing Lance passed out in his arms. 

“There is something else, though,” Hunk said quietly. He slowly let Lance’s head drop, so his scarred face was in view. The silence that followed was tense and uncomfortable.

“What..” Keith began, but his question was never finished. No one knew what to say. This hadn’t been what they were expecting to find.

“Will the healing pods help?” Shiro asked, looking to Coran and Allura. They both looked at each other.

“A little. It’ll heal the worst of the burns but he’ll still be scarred,” Coran explained slowly, quietly. “Let’s bring him over.” They followed him in silence, glancing back at Lance occasionally. 

—

No one wanted to leave the pods while Lance was in there. They remained by his side, leaving only when absolutely necessary. Keith stayed around the most. He was absolutely wracked with guilt. That beam had been aimed at him. He was the one that was meant to be captured.

They were all waiting there when Lance was finally conscious, wearily stepping out of the pods and falling limp against Hunk, who was prepared to catch him. They were all relieved that his acid burns seemed to heal for the most part, but also dreaded the moment Lance would see himself.

“Lance, buddy, are you okay?” Hunk asked. Lance nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “Tired, but alright.” He looked around, and his gaze stopped on Keith, who’s guilt was evident in both his posture and his expression. 

“No, no, don’t look guilty. I chose to take the shot,” he told him, extending out his arm to point at him. “I’d do it again, too.” Keith frowned, but could only mumble, “Thank you.” He didn’t know what else he was supposed to say. Words couldn’t express how grateful he was.

Lance waved him off and steadied himself as soon as he felt well enough, no longer using Hunk as his support. He didn’t want his hands on him anymore. His mind was racing, but he wasn’t going to let the experience change anything. He was going to be the same lively guy he always was, dammit. “So, what did I miss?”

— 

Lance tried to insist on training, to catch up after being held captive for weeks. Both the small meal portions he was given and lack of training attributed to his frailer form. They sent him to rest, however, and assured him they’d wake him up for dinner.

The first thing Lance did when alone in his room was sink to the floor and let the grief wash over him. He dropped his head between his knees, stifling his sobs with a palm over his mouth. He hated the way they all looked at him like he was broken. He didn’t want pity, he wanted things to go back to the way they were. And god, what they must’ve thought of his face. He hadn’t seen himself yet, but he knew it had to be bad. He’d been trying to avoid it, but he knew he had to look at himself eventually.

With a shuddering breath, Lance stood, creeping over to his bathroom. He kept his head down until he worked up the nerve to lift his head and look at himself. 

He screamed. He fell back on the floor, palms again pressing themselves over his mouth as he sobbed. 

He was disgusting. The one thing he’d always prided himself over was his looks, and that had been ripped from him. His skin was scarred and blistered, and quite frankly, he just didn’t look right. His hands were the same, but that was the least of his worries. 

A knock at his door startled him. 

“Lance, are you okay? I thought I heard a scream,” Keith’s voice called. Lance stared at the door, trying to calm himself before answering.

“All good in here! Nothing to worry about.” The tremble in his voice betrayed what he said.

“Can I come in?” 

Lance wanted to say no, he really did, but he didn’t have the heart to do so. He knew Keith felt guilty anyway, and he didn’t want to give him any reason to think he was upset with him.

“Yeah yeah, just give me a minute.”

Lance stood, avoiding the mirror, rubbing his eyes and hoping they didn’t look too red. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, before throwing open the door with a smile. “What’s up buddy?”

Keith frowned, slowly stepping inside as Lance moved to the side. “I told you, I heard a scream.” He paused, and shook his head, trying to find a kinder approach. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Lance waved him off. “Nothing, its nothing. Thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. All’s good in here.” Keith stared at him, eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t believe him. 

“Is there, uh,” he stopped himself a moment, scratching the back of his neck, “Anything you want to talk about? Maybe about what—what happened?” Keith was obviously having trouble expressing himself, but Lance felt comforted enough by the fact that he was even trying to reach out to him. 

Regardless, he shook his head fervently. He wasn’t going to talk about it. Talking about it would only make things tenser between them, and Lance hated the tension in the first place, hated the shift in dynamic. He didn’t want anything to change. “Nope! I’m all good, I’ve almost forgotten about that!” He flashed two thumbs up and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he wasn’t sure if Keith could really realize. Even if he couldn’t, he had to know that Lance was lying about being so okay.

He placed a hand on his shoulder and was startled when Lance jerked away. It was an odd reaction, but neither said anything about it. The thumping of his heart in his chest and his slight increase in breathing meant nothing. 

“Lance, please. I want to help you through this. Or try, at the very least. It’s my fault this happened.” Lance stared at him, a small smile tugging the corners of his lips up. “No, it’s not. I chose to take the hit,” he responded, voice quiet. 

Keith sat on the bed and motioned for Lance to sit as well. He did, but made sure to put a decent amount of space between them. “I know I’m not, like, the best person to talk to about serious things,” he started slowly, “but at least talk to me a little? It doesn’t have to be anything he did there, just—please.”

Lance looked down at his hands, fiddling with them in his lap. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it, talk about the acid and the whipping and the hands on him—no, nope, he wasn’t going to think about. Definitely wasn’t going to think about that. 

He shuddered and drew his arms around his waist. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Keith frowned, but he wasn’t going to push Lance. 

“You don’t have to talk about what happened,” Keith began softly, “But it’s not good to keep it bottled up. Maybe you should talk to Shiro? I mean, he does know what you went through.” Lance nodded slowly. He almost felt guilty—no, scratch that, he definitely felt guilty—refusing Keith’s offer to talk to him about it. He’d never been the most sentimental or emotionally in-touch guy, and the fact that he was trying meant a lot to Lance. 

“I can’t talk about what happened,” Lance told him. Keith nodded, going to stand, but was stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist, which was quickly pulled back. “But I’m-god, I don’t know what to do. I just got back, Keith, and I’m already struggling to deal with it.” 

Keith frowned, sitting beside Lance. “How am I going to handle it? I already just feel like giving up and never leaving my room. And-god-I’m so ugly. How am I going to go back to my family like this? They won’t even recognize me.” 

Lance was on a roll, unable to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth now that he’d started. Keith was right, he certainly wasn’t the best choice to talk to about heavy subjects, but talking to him just felt easy. He’d gone to him a few times, about small things, but he didn’t really know why. Keith was just easy to talk to. 

Lance dropped his head in his palms, letting out a shuddering breath. “They did so much, Keith. I can’t-I can’t even think about it.” Just the thought of their filthy hands on him again made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He felt panic and nausea wash over him, rubbing his arms uneasily. 

“I don’t-I don’t want to force you to talk about anything, okay? I just want to say that. But, really, Lance, I think it would make things easier if you weren’t going through it alone. Like I said, you don’t have to tell me about it, but you should tell someone. Just—no one wants to see you suffer alone. We want to help,” Keith told him softly.

Lance looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “They-“ He choked on the first word, and anything else he tried to say felt more and more like he was being strangled. He shook his head fervently. 

Keith nodded, hand hovering above his shoulder, afraid to touch him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it. You’ll get there eventually.” He was clearly trying his best to be of any help to Lance, trying not to be so gut-wrenchingly awkward so he could comfort him. 

Lance rubbed his thighs quickly, taking a shaky breath. Yeah, he’d get there. He’d talk about it eventually. And when he did, everyone would be waiting to help him through it.


End file.
